Page 52 of Reasons We Break

Her mother takes it all with a strained smile. Simran suspects the only reason she came today was for this purpose: to stop rumours from growing.

While her mother’s smoothly explaining how a nasty virus kept her home for weeks, several kids run past clutching backpacks. One is crying. Simran automatically reaches out to touch her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

The little girl immediately turns to Simran, her face tear-streaked. “Preeti won’t give my backpack back. We got them from the playplace field trip yesterday.”

Simran turns her gaze on the other girl, who now looks guilty. “Preeti, come on. Give it back.”

Preeti does so immediately. Simran smiles, pleased. While she doesn’t exactlyenjoybeing seen as a paragon of virtue, it does have its benefits at times like this.

As the backpack passes hands, the pocket slides open a bit, and the lingering smell of yesterday’s popcorn wafts over to Simran’s nose. It immediately takes her back to the ledger.

Her smile slides away. She mentally shakes herself. First, two all-nighters, now this?Whycan’t she stop thinking about it? It wasn’t like the message was especially outlined or highlighted. In fact, it was plain scrawl in a fine-tipped blue pen, like an afterthought.

But that makes her wonder if it was the most crucial thing of all.

“Will you be doing kirtan today?” a passing auntie asks, snapping Simran out of it. Simran hums her confirmation. She prepared one of her mom’s favourite shabads for this day.

But her mom isn’t the only one making her return, as Simran discovers when she gets onstage to sing. As she’s puffing air into her harmonium, Jassa settles behind the tabla beside her like he never left. She looks at him, but he only covers his mic to askWhich taal?and she covers hers to replyDadra, and then they get to it.

They are, as always, a good duo. Her mom clearly thinks so, too, because every time Simran looks up while singing, she spots her face in the crowd, those lines in her face smoothed away for the first time in weeks.

Simran doesn’t speak to Jassa right afterward, but later, in the langar hall for lunch, she spots him approaching while she’s sitting to eat. He’s holding a steel water pitcher and cups, going down her row to pour water for people. When he kneels in front of her, Simran says, “I thought you wouldn’t be back in Kelowna until fall.”

He hands her a cup. “I’m taking summer classes.”

Smart move, getting ahead of the next school year. She should’ve done that too. “I’m sorry about your dada. How’s your family?”

“Adjusting. Somehow, I never imagined him dying. Kind of stupid, right? He was, like, eighty.” He laughs a little, shaking his head. “I just wasn’t ready.”

“Can you ever be ready?”

“Exactly.” He doesn’t seem to realize her question wasn’t rhetorical. “But listen, I really am sorry about before. There was a lot on my mind, but that’s no excuse. I should’ve texted you before I left that I’d miss our—”

“It’s okay,” Simran says quickly, not wanting to hear whatever he was about to call their coffee date. “I understand.”

He smiles apologetically and picks up his pitcher again. As he pours, she can’t help but admire his ever-graceful posture, the way the fabric of his dress pants and shirt stretch over muscle. What onearthdoes he do to maintain that physique?

“How’re you doing, anyway?” Jassa asks. Simran hastily tears her eyes away.

“Fine, why?” She shoves a piece of roti in her mouth to give herself something to do.

“You came in pretty late today. And...Neetu told me you’ve been acting off.”

Simran pauses in chewing. Shehasbeen acting off. Missing Neetu’s decoration night was just part of her new pattern of avoidance—of peopleandsocial functions. Half because of her mom, half because of the Lions.

Thankfully, Toor Uncle, who’s sitting next to Simran, bangs his cup on the ground at that moment. “Are you socializing or doing seva, boy?”

“Coming, Uncle ji.” Jassa grins at Simran and moves on. Simran exhales. Close call. Jassa’s too smart for her excuses.

As he’s leaving, another kid with a playplace backpack runs by, wafting that popcorn smell at her, and she sits up quickly. Wait. Jassaissmart. And he knows his way around a mathematical quandary as well as she does. If anyone could help with the Ace cipher...

“Jassa,” she calls impulsively. He turns. “Come eat with me.”

Jassa looks surprised at the request. She has a tiny amount of déjà vu—but this time, there’s no room for embarrassment. “Sure,” he says. “Just let me finish.”

Once Jassa moves on, Toor Uncle nudges her. “I understand your game, Birdie. Very clever.”

She blushes, and he cackles. Toor Uncle has no idea what game she’s really playing.